


I Won't Say I'm in Love

by imogenfere



Category: Hercules (1997), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk John, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Silly John, Sweet Sherlock, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imogenfere/pseuds/imogenfere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John comes home drunk and starts hallucinating sassy Black women on the table, what's Sherlock to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Say I'm in Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leuco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leuco/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for the amazing Leuco.  
> Happy Birthday, YOU'RE AN ADULT NOW! Sorry you have to hang around with all of us children.  
> This idea was thought up in math last year, decided I would write it for your birthday :)
> 
> Thanks to my amazing Chloe for beta'ing, even though she wont see this, I am eternally grateful for her reading this for me and putting up with leuco and I fangirling hard, even when she's not in the fandom. 
> 
> First fic, sorry if it's crappy!

'SHERRRRLOCK!'

John stumbled into 221B, giggling to himself as he did so.

'SH'RLOCK?'

John looked around the flat, trying to find the consulting detective.

'There y-you aaaare!' he cried, slurring his words.

Sherlock sighed, looking up from his latest experiment.

'Yes John, here I am, exactly where I was when you left for the pub four hours ago. You should really limit your drinking, seven pints is a _bit_ excessive, although I suppose you _were_ celebrating Mike's news that his wife is pregnant. How tedious, pretending to be happy over the news that an acquaintance has finally managed to do what people have been doing since the beginning of time.'

John stared at him, dumbfounded. His face then cracked open with the wide grin that often graced his features after Sherlock's genius ramblings.

'Brilliant! You're so smart, Sherlock. Always deducting - wait no. Deduct-deduce- DEDUCING what's going on. You're amaz- _*hic*_ amazing.' John smiled beatifically.

 

Sherlock ducked his head, hiding the small smile that appeared whenever John praised him. Sherlock still found it a novel experience, and once again wondered how this extraordinarily _ordinary_  man could be so, well, extraordinary. He was broken from his thoughts by John bursting into giggles. That was another thing that fascinated him about John, it was so captivating to see a grown man, and an ex-army doctor at that, erupt into high pitched giggles, contradicting all expectations of him. He turned to smile fondly at the little blonde man, still giggling beside him.

'Sherlock! Th-there's _*hic*_ sassy little black women on the table! _*hic*_ Look look look, they're singing!'

Sherlock stared at his flatmate, eyebrows crinkling in confusion.

John was looking at a spot on the table in front of him rapturously, child-like expression painted on his face.

 

John giggled again at the group in front of him.

'Whoo-hoo, look at that fine piece of work over there, mmhmm, I'd like to make some sweet music with-' The shortest woman was abruptly cut off by the apparent leader of the group. 

'We are the Muses, goddesses of the Arts, and proclaimers of heroes. Now then, this is $normally$ handled by Aphrodite, but we don't want to turn this into a Greek tragedy, so we'll take it from here, darling.'

They all stood in a row, dressed in flowing Grecian dresses. There was a peculiar quality to them, as if they weren't quite there, as if they didn't belong. They looked almost cartoon.

'You go, girls!' he giggled to himself.

 

Sherlock stared at John with bemused exasperation. His poor John, who had obviously had too much to drink that night and was hallucinating sassy black women on the table. He sighed and stood up.

'Come on John, I think it's time to get you to bed.'

'Nooooo! No, I want to stay and talk to them, Sherloooock!' he whined, determined to stay put.

Sherlock resigned himself to getting a glass of water and some aspirin from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. John turned his attention back to the Muses.

 

'Now listen here, darling, we know you're in love with that Adonis of yours.'

'Whoo, say it girlfriend!'

'Honey, it may seem impossible, but that's the gospel truth. So what are you going to do about it?'

John sighed in resignation. The Muses looked at him expectantly, awaiting his response.

'What is the matter with me. You'd think a man would learn.'

He started to sadly sing to the sympathetic women standing amidst the debris that made its way to their kitchen table every week.

'If there's a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I've already won that. No man is worth the aggravation. That's ancient history, been there, done that!'

The Muses sung back to him, in a perfect harmony contrasting with John's drunken voice. John was a little surprised, but then again not really, they  _were_  goddesses from Greek Mythology, standing on his living room table. If he wasnt surprised by that, then a little duet between them wouldn't be surprising either. 

'Who'd you think you're kidding, he's the earth and heaven to you! Try and keep it hidden, honey we can see right through you. Whoah, you can't conceal it, we know how you feel and who you're thinking of! Whoahh!'

'No chance, no way, I won't say it, no, no!'

'You swoon, you sigh, why deny it, oh-ohhh!'

The Muses started to move and sway in what was obviously second nature to them, sashaying their hips in time to the imaginary beat that they could all hear.

'It's too cliche, I won't say I'm in love!' John protested vehemently, standing shakily and moving to walk away. He stumbled and leaned against the refrigerator, continuing to softly sing to himself.

'I thought my heart had learnt its lesson. It feels so good when you start out. My head is screaming get a grip, John! Unless you're dying to cry your heart out! Whoahh!' he belted pitifully, turning to hear what the Muses had to say in response.

'You keep on denying, who you are and how you're feeling. Baby, we're not buying, Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling! Face it like a grown up, when you gonna own up that you got, got, got it bad?'

'Whoah! No chance, no way, I won't say it, no, no.'

'Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love!'

'This scene, won't play, I won't say I'm in loooooove.'

'You're doin' flips, read our lips, you're in love!'

John shook his head angrily, then stopped when it made the room spin.

'You're way off base, I won't say it.'

The Muses looked at each other in despair.

'He won't say it, no!'

'Get off my case, I won't say it!' he yelled.

'Boy don't be proud, it's okay, you're in love.'

'Ohhh, at least out loud. I won't say I'm in ... love.'

He smiled softly to himself as he caught sight of the Belstaff coat on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

The Muses smiled triumphantly at each other, happy with another job well done. They slowly faded away, leaving behind no trace of their visit. 

John slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor, resting his cheek on the cool surface of the fridge. He shut his eyes and softly repeated:

'At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love.'

 

Sherlock walked back into the room with glass of water and pain killers in hand. He smiled to himself as he caught sight of his blogger softly snoring on the floor. He put down the water and pills and gently crouched down beside his best friend. Sherlock gently brushed the hair off his friend's forehead and placed a soft kiss there.

'At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love,' he softly said, before helping his John to bed, water and medication ready for him in the morning.


End file.
